


Disregarding the Previous Mishaps

by 0pposing



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Classroom Sex, Coming of Age, F/M, Illegal Activities, Love Letters, Major Illness, POV First Person, Sad Ending, Sneaking Around, Teacher-Student Relationship, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Underage Kissing, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:37:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0pposing/pseuds/0pposing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I remember you like the light of day, with all your flaws and all your perfections and that silly little way you put your finger on your lip when you're in deep thought. I remember our last moments when you told me you loved me, when you told me I was the smartest girl you'd ever met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disregarding the Previous Mishaps

**Author's Note:**

> Soo, I didn't feel like posting this on Wattpad considering my stories never do very well there and do a lot better here. Sorry for the excessive uses of 'you's". To cover any questions, none of this has happened other than the fact that yes, I am infatuated with my irl algebra teacher and he was the main inspiration for writing this story. It's sort of a vent-machine where I can write out my feelings because I know they'll never happen in real life. -sheds tear- Anyways, enjoy!

You were 36, just a few months shy, a baby on the way. I was 17, impatient and eager to impress you in any way I could. I tried to circumvent my way around your class, you writing equations on the board as if your life depended on it. I loved that. You would talk to yourself quietly for minutes on end, debating quicker ways to do an equation or how 'terrific' the new graphing app was.  
  
You were fit. You had slight pudge in your stomach, but your shoulders were broad.  
  
I hated your class. I hated the bland walls, the awkward scented mixture of cologne and food creating a homely scent. I didn't want to feel at home with you and 30+ other students, take or minus a few throughout the year. You were supposed to teach me, belittle me with jokes about kids knowing nothing. But instead you treated me knowingly like an adult. I despised you on certain days, ignoring the hellos you greeted me with as I trudged through your boring light blue door. I despised that sparkle in your eyes when you glanced sideways in my direction while talking, looking for some sign of happiness in my cold face. But I gave you no look back as I stared blankly at my phone, messaging Eliza about how desperate you looked standing there at your podium, pencil behind your ear, clearly never waxed eyebrows, stubble from sleepless nights and and a pregnant wife.  
  
A pregnant wife which you did and still do not love.

* * *

  
  
Your kisses came on a rainy day, us having a talk on astronomy after school and the lights going out. You lit some spare candles, I remember their pumpkin scent clearly as they illuminated one corner of the room.  
  
Your hand was on my thigh, us both sitting on those pathetic excuses of chairs they gave us to learn. It inched closer and closer until I could almost hear your heart pounding through your fingertips as you brushed against my zipper.  
  
You were sweating like a stallion, caressing my breasts underneath you with sweet swift licks, a bite here and there. The candle was out, and it was thundering outside as the rain pattered on the weak roof.  
  
You made love to me sweetly; bare. There was no protection and I repeatedly told you how big you were and how amazing you felt. You whispered sweet nothings in my ear as our chests touched, my back on your cold desk, a pencil tangled in my hair.  
  
I felt you spill into me, your throat uttering a low growl as you sunk your teeth into my neck, slightly decreasing your grip and substituting it for kisses on my  
face.  
  
You went from lustful savage to a loving bird in 4 seconds, leaning your forehead against mine and smiling. I wasn't happy.  
  
I knew you were married. I knew you had one child, another on the way. I knew your wife loved you but you did not love her. I knew all of this yet I made my decision and I did not regret it.  
  
I may not have been happy afterwards but I was happy during and I began to love you.  
  
You and I made our departure out the door; the rain had died down and reduced to a slight drizzle and the occasional flash of lightning. It smelled like wet dirt. You smelled like wet dirt. You smelled like everything I loved.

* * *

  
  
You showed up at my door, suitcase in hand. I remember your eyes being bloodshot and dull. You told me your wife left you.  
She smelled my scent on you.  
She saw the marks.  
She took your children and kicked you out of the house and you came running to me.  
  
I told my mom you were looking to rent the small house out back. You were nothing but a customer to us, someone looking for a cheaper home.  
  
"1,200?" You said  
"Yup. We'll pay your other bills, I know a divorce can be hard." My mom said before walking away and leaving me and you standing in a white room with a single white bed.  
  
You shut the door softly and latched it, throwing me on the bed and cherishing every second you took my clothes off. Those lacy purple panties were for you.  
I wasn't skinny.  
I still I am not.  
I was 5'4.  
I was 140.  
My hair was only shoulder length and I definitely was not attractive by today's standard. But you made love to me again, harder and sweeter than before.  
  
You ravished my body and my mind and before I knew it, I was in my room, watching you water the windowsill plants down below. You looked up at me and smiled your toothy grin.

* * *

  
You told me you wanted to marry me. I just smiled and traced circles onto your  chest.  
  
"Do you?" You asked with slight anxiousness.  
  
"Someday." I replied back.

* * *

 

I remember studying your body one snowy afternoon.  
I had just gotten home from school.  
You arrived 24 minutes later, not wanting to draw attention.  
My parents left to Christmas shop and I made my way to your little home in the back. It was cold in there and I saw you with a book underneath the blankets, your stubbly face peeking up from underneath the duvet. You sat up and scooted over as I shed my clothes and slipped in next to you.  
I asked you what you were reading.  
"Lolita."  
I laughed and crawled on top of you, pressing the palms of my hands into your chest.  
"Is that what you think I am?" I replied as I drew a '2' into your collarbone.  
"I've lived here 2 months now, if your mother were to suddenly die and I were to kidnap you, it would've already happened." I said nothing back as I eyed your body. You were still under my gaze as I toyed with the faint stretch of hair on your upper chest.  
  
I haven't described you until now but you were beautiful. You had these eyes; these shining eyes that reminded me of lust.  
Your teeth were crooked, not perfectly white or beautiful but your perfections exceeded that.  
The first thing I noticed about you were your dimples. These marvelous craters in your cheeks whenever something made you laugh or when you were patronizing another student. I can't tell you how many times I would stare at you and get caught.  
But I couldn't help it. I couldn't help fawning over something I knew I couldn't have, but yet, I had you.  



End file.
